Vengeance
by Starry Lights in the Sky
Summary: This is a year of vengeance. The Uprisings have failed, and so the Games continue. For the 76th Hunger Games, the pools will be made up of children who are relatives of tributes that never became victors. SYOT OPEN.
1. Chapter 1

**Unknown P.O.V.**

Excitement was in the air, but whether it was natural, or filtered, I wouldn't know. Ninety-nine percent of the Capital's population was crowded on the gray streets, poised and waiting. The one percent would be my brother and, huddled in front of our black television.

Any second now, President Snow would light up our screen, in all his 'beauty.' It was Hunger Games season again, and I had a feeling this year was going to be extra special.

The screen in front of my face blared to life, practically blinding me. There, center screen, was President Snow, standing up at the podium like a dictator. He looks fatter than I remember. (Behold, the only man to get _fatter _after war-torn times. I applaud.)

"Welcome, welcome. I come here today, to speak to you all.

One, I would like to address the troubles we, as Panem, have undergone as of recent. There were unnecessary bouts of violence in the districts, and they have caused many unfortunate casualties." He paused, as if he was deeply emotional towards the people that died.

"However, the Capital has once again arisen to action. We have fought to keep the peace." The crowds in the street broke out into cheers, as President Snow nodded in pride. Even my brother, huddled next to me, started to clap. Though, I made sure to put an end to that.

"So, today, I present the 76th Hunger Games. Though not a Quarter Quell, the Gamemakers feel that they owe you a redo from last years' disaster. So, there will be a twist." He paused, digging an envelope out of his pocket.

"This is a year of vengeance. As you know, there are eight remaining Victors, but they didn't live up to their titles. Instead, they caused violence in our country. Therefore, they have a bit to do with this year.

The children in the Reaping pools this year will be relatives of tributes that never became victors. Tributes that played in the same games as Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Annie Cresta, Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Haymich Abernathy, Beetee, and Enobaria.

The Victor of the 76th Hunger Games gets to execute the traitor of their choice."

The television went black.

* * *

**Hello! Welcome to my new SYOT!**

**So, basically, tributes in this could be a little sister of Clove, Cato, or anyone that was in the Hunger Games. It could even be the relative of an original character that was a tribute in a different victors games. **

**Your tribute can either want to kill a victor, or not. (Not all people want revenge or see it as more of the Capitals fault.)**

**Volunteers are allowed.**

**Please be original when you are making your tribute! Also, at the time, only one tribute per author. If I don't get many tributes than I will let you submit two.**

**Here's the form.**

**Name:**

**Age (12-18):**

**Gender:**

**District (top three):**

**Reaped/Volunteered:**

**Appearance (have a link or a person I can look up.):**

**Relative that was a tribute:**

**History:**

**Personality (be descriptive here): **

**Family/Friends (small descriptions of each):**

**Reaping Outfit:**

**Strengths (at least five):**

**Weaknesses (at least five):**

**Likes (at least four):**

**Dislikes (at least four):**

**Token/Meaning behind it: **

**Training strategy (make friends or not, show skills or not, etc...):**

**Private training session (what did they do/preferable score): **

**Interview outfit:**

**Quote from Interview:**

**Bloodbath Strategy:**

**Open to alliances?:**

**Careers?:**

**Attitude towards Hunger Games:**

**Attitude towards Capital:**

**Attitude towards this years' twist?**

**Fears:**

**Open to Romance?:**

**Please PM only!**

* * *

**Current Tribute List**

**District One Male: Jordan Hart, cousin of Glimmer Hart, age 18**

**District One Female: Evangeline Knightbridge, distant cousin of Glimmer Hart, age 18**

**District Two Male:**

**District Two Female: Saraya Knight, sister to Sonny Knight, age 17**

**District Three Male:**

**District Three Female: Alizaria Lockhart, niece of Pixel Lance, age 12**

**District Four Male:**

**District Four Female: Paige Parker, sibling of Alexander Parker, age 15**

**District Five Male: Marco Levi Crossley, sibling of Finch Crossley (FoxFace), age 14**

**District Five Female: Rose Crossley, sibling of Finch Crossley (FoxFace), age 16**

**District Six Male:**

**District Six Female: ChrysAnn Winston, niece of Female Morphling, age 15**

**District Seven Male:**

**District Seven Female:**

**District Eight Male:**

**District Eight Female: Leah Chen, sibling of Eric Chen, age 17**

**District Nine Male: **

**District Nine Female:**

**District Ten Male: **

**District Ten Female: Jayla Cross, sister to Hannah Cross, age 15**

**District Eleven Male: Michael Ramsey, son of Chaff Ramsey, age 18**

**District Eleven Female: Cacey Bethem, sibling to Rue Bethem, age 13**

**District Twelve Male: Hadley Amis, nephew of Maysilee Donner, age 16**

**District Twelve Female: Iris Maine, sibling to Ania Maine, age 16**


	2. Chapter 2: District Five

**Disclaimer- I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Heres District Five! Important note at the end**

_Marco Crossley_

Little snippets of light peek through the pitch black curtain. However, that's not what awakens me this morning. What does is the soft bangs on the wall that seem to be inching closer and closer to the room in which I lay.

The bangs come to a stop, leaving an eerily silence in its place. I can practically feel every pump of my heart bang against my chest. Droplets of sweat travel down the scope of my face.

The doorknob lets off a familiar creak, letting me know that someone is violating it's handle. I jerk up in my poorly supported cot, throwing the thin sheet away from my now heated body.

A person stumbles in as the door is thrown open. They catch their body with the help of a dresser, and chuckle crazily at their own stupidity. I spot the almost-empty beer bottle clasped in his left hand, like it's their lifeline.

I'm suddenly filled with raging adrenaline, and it encourages me to pounce at the bottle. I grip the cool glass, and attempt to remove it from the man's grasp.

For a split second his foggy brown eyes meet my blue ones. In that moment I actually convince myself that he'll release the bottle, but I know better.

He flings me harshly to the side, causing my stomach to slam into the dresser.

"Now Marco, you know you aren't old enough to have some of this," he slurs, smirking coyly. My hands grip the dresser, and I pull myself to my feet. I stare at the blank picture frame a foot from my face. My heart immediately plummets to my stomach at the sight.

I rip my gaze away from the plain sight, and stare at the ground. I push past the man in a drunken state, and escape into the hallway.

At the sound of a soft click, I lean against the wooden door. I lay my head back, slowly closing my eyes, and attempting to regain control of my static heartbeat.

"No, Armin. Then I would be just like you," I whispered to no one.

* * *

The clinking of dishes and silverware sound all around me. I sit hunched over with my elbows on the table so I can hold my chin. My blue irises remain concealed.

I hear the muffled sound of a woman's voice, a voice I choose to zone out. Of course, my bliss is short-lived, as there is a rough yank of my ear.

"Marco Crossley you are going to eat something right this minute!" A plate of messed up eggs and deformed strawberries is laid right in front of me.

"Yes mother," I mumble, picking up the metal fork with my right hand, and beginning to stab at the eggs. To anyone watching it would seem as though I had something against the eggs.

"Larson, can you believe Rose was openly holding hands with that Amber girl yesterday? In public?" I set the fork down lightly, careful not to alert my parents with the clink it surely could've made. I drop my face into my hands, putting my elbows on the table once more.

"How disgusting. She has our family in so many ways," I hear my father mutter from across the table.

"At least she's been kicked out. We wouldn't want her to poison our other children," my mother says from the kitchen.

I stand abruptly, causing the chair I once inhabited to tip to the ground. My eyes stayed glued to the ground, as I didn't want to encounter the ugly expressions my parents were surely wearing.

"Marco, I have had enough of your attitude!" My mother screeched. I turned away, walked away, and went away.

They didn't follow me, they never would.

* * *

"Marco?" I hear a soft voice mourner in question. I freeze, keeping my eyes downcast.

"Amber," I mutter in acknowledgement, making sure to not meet her eyes. She heaves a sigh, and I hear the crinkle of grocery bags.

"Rose really misses you. You two haven't spoke a word since...," and I didn't hear the rest, as I lunged at the rather petite girls her groceries spiral in all directions as she slams to the ground.

I meet her eyes for the briefest second; eyes that now harbored fear, and I was the monster that put it there.

An apology sits at the top of my tongue. I just... I just can't do it though. So, I just yank up the hood of my sweatshirt, and walk away.

* * *

I find myself in the roped off area yet again. The last time I stood in here I was way at the back, nearly becoming claustrophobic due to the amount of people. That was two years ago. Now I stand right in the middle, and I don't think anyone was crowded in the slightest. This time there was a large amount of children /outside/ of the roped off area.

The stage was emptier than usual. There were only two chairs; one for the stuffed Mayer and one for the frilly escort. There would be no mentors this year._ That's right, they're all either dead or being prepped for death._

I see the ridiculous-looking escort flit across the stage like a wounded bird. All she says is that she has a special video brought to us all the way from the Capital. (She makes a point to skip merrily back to her seat.)

When the video first starts to play I'm expecting the same old thing that I've seen so many times. But that isn't it at all.

I see bombs being dropped onto the place where District Thirteen hid underground. The ashy explosion. The splattered blood. The new corpses now lying around.

One thing, though, one thing managed to really stick in my mind. The chilling voice of President Snow at the end.

_This is what happens when you try to defy the Capital._

Then it's just... Over. Just like that the screen is pulled up, and the Reaping continues. It doesn't matter that we just saw thousands die.

"This year we choose from a pool of children ages twelve to eighteen. _However_," she pauses for effect she thinks she has. "They must be related to one of our fallen tributes." The crowd is antsy for her to just get it over with.

"Let's shake things up and start with the boys this year!" She claps excitedly before skipping over to the boys bowl.

_There's a higher chance of her picking me this year..._

"Marco Crossley."

Around me I hear multiple sighs of relief. Then they realize they were standing by me, and they cautiously back away.

A lot of people are waiting for me to break down, cry, or _something. _As if I would ever do something like that in front of all of Panem. Especially not when I have her image to carry on.

_Rose Crossley_

The sprinkle of light from the window catches my eye-lid, bringing me out of my slumber. I stretch my arms to the left, expecting to feel another body, but coming up with air.

Where was Amber?

I move to get out of the bed, only to hear an obnoxious crinkling with every movement. I look to my stomach in surprise, spotting a blue note stuck there.

I let myself crack a smile, peeling it off.

_Went to the store- Amber xoxo_

I flop back in the bed, hugging the little note to my chest, before leaving the comfort of the warm bed.

I meander to the bathroom, which was just down the hall from the bedroom. I flip the light-switch, which made the light flicker before turning on. Being the power district, you'd think everything electric-wise would run smoothly. Not even close.

My brown eyes catch my reflection in the mirror. Before I can catch myself I'm openly critiquing myself.

The long, light red hair I got from having my mom's blonde and father's deep red mixed together. My big, rather plain eyes the color of mud. The thing that sticks out the most, though, isn't something that was there naturally.

If you were to look past the obnoxious hair, you would see the light scars covering my shoulder blades. A constant reminder for me...

I'm so caught up with my reflection that I don't hear the bathroom door open.

"Rose?"

I jump in fright, whacking my left hand against the doorknob. I gasp slightly, holding the stinging hand against my stomach.

"Sorry," Amber tweeted worriedly, taking my left hand into her palms. It's then that I see her bloodied elbow.

"Never mind me," I shake my left hand from her grasp and reaching towards her elbow. "We need to wrap that."

I grab Amber's hand softly, and take the lead to the kitchen. Once there, I point to the stool and begin my search for wrap. It takes me a good three minutes to find it. (Its the third shelf down on the left for anyone that wanted to know.)

"What happened?" I ask, beginning to wrap the wound.

"Nothing... I just... tripped. Yeah, I tripped," Amber answered, pretending to be sheepish. I shake my head, and try to meet her eyes. She makes a point to look elsewhere.

"I know you aren't clumsy. Come on, you can tell me. You don't need to treat me like I could fall apart any second, okay?" I say, feeling slightly pained that she wouldn't tell me in the first place.

"I saw Marco this morning," Amber practically whispered out. Suddenly, I felt completely paralyzed, all except my heart. My heart chose to run a marathon.

"Rose? Rose, please, I'm sorry, just calm down. You're breathing too fast," Amber soothes, cupping my face in her hands. I take a deep breath, and at least attempt to get control of my breathing patterns.

"Did he... Hurt you? Because of me?" I asked, knowing that a possible answer could shatter me into oblivion. When she hesitated I felt a brigade of tears begin to build up behind my eyes.

"Not really. I just... I said you two hadn't spoken since... _she _died," Amber says softly. The brigade attacks, and my cheeks now feel trickles of water sailing down them. I feel my body be enveloped into a tight, warm embrace.

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay," Amber murmurs softly into my ear. I shake myself from the embrace, and shake my head profusely.

"Don't you see Amber? _It's not okay... _and I'm terrified that it never will be again," I whisper brokenly, before turning, and running back down the hallway.

The tears may clog my vision, but I still manage to find _that_ dresser spot again. My hands come out with the small metal blade. The only thing that can relieve me from the excruciating pain in my head.

Finch left behind a family, and because she's gone, it's breaking at the seams.

* * *

I peek outside the bedroom door, and look down each end of the hallway. When I don't see any signs of people, I begin tip-toeing down the hall, and towards the door.

"Are you at least going to let me walk with you?" Amber pipes up quietly, making me gasp in fright. I meet her gaze, her sad, sad gaze. I don't say a word, but I offer her my right hand.

As I open the door I feel an expected heat join my palm. A familiar heat. It gives me the slightest bit of strength.

We walk in silence. It's not the horridly uncomfortable kind, but the calming kind. The walk was perfectly blissful.

The calm before the storm, I guess you could say.

When we get to the Town Square, Amber kisses my cheek before we separate.

I duck under the roped off area just in time to hear my little brother's name be called.

* * *

The pain is crushing. There's suddenly not enough oxygen in the air to fill my lungs. I see him appear out of the crowd of boys.

He's slouched over in his signature 'I don't care' pose. However, I can see the slightest but of confidence in each of his steps. _Just like Finch._

I can't watch anymore. It's all just too much for me. I pinch the skin on my left wrist to help distract me from what was going on.

The escort speaks again; a jumble of words and phrases that didn't stand a chance against the sound of my heartbeat.

A pause, and then I hear the escort's voice loud and clear.

"Rose Crossley"

I want to scream, cry, and run out of the ropes to Amber's comforting embrace. I want to escape my horrible fate. I don't want this. I don't.

_Finch didn't either, though._

That thought alone gives me the strength I need to mount the stage. From there the escort whisks me to the center of the stage. To where Marco stands.

Marco's sadistic gaze takes away any confidence I had. His gaze alone promised that as soon as the gong sounded, he'd kill me.

* * *

**There's District Five!**

**I still need loads if tributes, so please point people towards this story if you think they'd be interested! **

**1. Who was your favorite for this district? Why?**

**2. What district do you want to see next?**


	3. District Twelve

_Iris Maine_

The dream is always the same.

It starts out lovely, but I suppose that's the irony in everything. It's a beautiful deception.

I'm walking through a desert, and I suppose if it wasn't a dream I'd be sweating up a storm. But it was a dream, and therefore I could've been in a volcano, and it still would've felt like a warm summer breeze.

This desert is filled with sand dunes that tower over my small, fragile frame, and razored cacti that could pop me like a bubble. Yet, I'm completely oblivious, acting as if it's a carefree summer day.

Though, the dunes and the cacti seemed like _nothing_ compared to the _real_ danger.

Anyway, in the dream, I suddenly see this ginormous dune as a challenge. So, I run straight at it, and being to ascend. It had been so easy, and I got this flighting feeling.

The calm before the storm, if you will.

Before I know it I'm at the top of the sand dune, and at first I feel exhilarating pride, but it's short-lived.

See, because then I realize that I'm not alone.

No, because mere feet from me is my beloved sister Ania, and that… _that District Two monster._

He has Ania's fragile neck in his fist. Ania's trying to fight back, as she's kicking at him and trying to wrench his hands from her. But her attempts prove futile.

I let out a piercing scream, one that rips through my throat like a hurricane. I immediately try to get to Ania, to help her, but I don't even get one step. I hit glass, a glass wall separating me from my dying sister.

My screams continue as I bang against the glass with my hands, my feet, and all of the will-power in my small frame. I only stop when the _monster_ drops Ania, and my poor sister crumbles.

The monster turns his head, and locks eyes with me. His gaze is cold, yet hungry. He's suddenly a tiger on the prowl, and if he's the tiger, then that makes me the doe in the headlights.

He approaches me slowly, but surely. He makes it known that he's going to kill me painfully, and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. Just like a lot of things seem to be, it was inevitable.

Suddenly, he was right there, sticking his hand towards me, making it seem like the glass wasn't even there. It was there, but it worked as his advantage. It let him in, but not me out.

I feel the slightest touch of his hand on my neck, it's enough to set a burning flame throughout my body.

I burst out of the illusion, sitting in an upright position in my bed. Sweat covers my body, and I'm breathing haggardly. Tears would be streaming from my eyes, but my eyes went dry long ago.

Taking one last deep breath in an attempt to rid myself of the nightmare, I swing myself out of the bed.

Hopefully washing my face will help relieve me from my mind, it usually does.

I hear my family out in the kitchen. Of course, I could probably hear them from miles away. They radiate absolute joy. I suppose it's nice, but it gets old. Particularly when they start to realize that you aren't up to par with the rest of the family.

Trying to make as little of sound as possible, I slip into the bathroom that sits across the hall.

I don't shut the door, that would be too loud of noise, and I'm not ready for my family to know that I'm awake yet.

Seeing myself in the mirror is hard. I don't _just_ see my neck, I see _his hands curling around it, inflaming my body._

I bring the cool water to my face, and to the source, my neck. Immediately, the flames are extinguished. _The burns will always be there, though. _

I don't really want to be in this house. _Her _blood may as well be painted on the walls, or splattered would be more appropriate. As for the monster, he might as well have been sitting at our kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea.

Sweeping back into my room, I dress quickly, not really paying attention to what I'm wearing. (Just making sure it's not rags.)

I head towards the front door, hoping to exit without my family noticing. I'm not that lucky.

"Sissy!" I hear a childish voice cry, and then I feel arms wrap around my leg. I let out a long sigh, turning towards my family. My parents are seated at the kitchen table, drinking milk and eating bread. They're smiling at me. _They're always smiling…_

Looking down, I see little Iva clutched to my leg like if she let go she'd go floating into oblivion. I've learned that it's just how she shows her love.

"Honey, come, have some light breakfast with us," my mother beckons, motioning to the seat next to my father. I bite my lip, feeling my stomach do a flip.

"I'm not really hungry," I reply. _If I eat I'll just throw it up…_

"Honey, it's Reaping day. You need your strength," my father says, his mouth still full with food. I wait for my mother to scold him for talking with his mouth full, but she doesn't. She's too busy focusing on me.

"I'll eat something at Ian's before we go to the Reaping," I answer calmly, but mentally screaming. How do they sit here, all happy and calm? Aren't they losing? Don't they dream about her death?

"Okay, darling, we'll see you when the Reaping ends," my mother states with a smile, before returning to her breakfast.

It's like Ania never even _existed._

I reached down to pluck Iva from my legs. I give her a quick peck on the head, before setting her back down.

"I'll see you after the Reaping, Iva," I murmur.

* * *

Ian is waiting for me on the steps of his house, as usual. _Every dang time._ Just like everything else in my life, Ian was a constant. For some people, it would be comforting, but to me, I just feel smothered.

Ian embraced me in a hug, one so long it tested the length of friendship. Well, _only friendship._

We let each other go simultaneously, and met eyes. He smiled at me. It made the butterflies in my stomach soar.

We began walking, side-by-side. Generally, we were walking towards the Town Square, but we weren't in any rush.

With every step, our hands bumped together, each time ignited the sparks in my heart.

"So,… The Reaping today, it's different," Ian stated, his voice cracking slightly at the end. I took a shuddering breath, trying to keep my eyes away from his.

"Yeah, I guess it is a little bit. There being no mentors and all…," I murmured, swaying in the wind as I walked. How I wished the breeze would float me away.

I felt a firm hand clutch my wrist, and turn me in my tracks. Blue eyes met brown. "There isn't nearly as many people in the reaping pools. You could… Effie could pick one of your slips of paper this year," Ian rasped, eyes filled with worry and uncontainable sadness. He released me, and we started walking again.

"If you are chosen, you now there's no way I'll be able to volunteer, right? I'm not eligible for these games this year."

* * *

I crowd within the roped area with the other sixteen year olds. Well, _crowd_ isn't exactly the right word, as I wasn't crowded in the slightest.

_There really aren't many of us this year…_

We are all brought to attention by Effie, who has been District Twelve's escort for a couple years. So, I wasn't phased when I heard her annoying, twinkling voice in the microphone.

The video was different this year. Seeing all of the events in that video made me think of the constant dream I have. And… _Him._

_Sonny Knight…_

"Iris Maine!" A squeaky voice announced.

On the outside I look indifferent, but on the inside, everything has just gone to Hell.

* * *

_Hadley Amis_

I lie in my bed, wide awake. Sleep always seemed to escape me the night before the Reaping.

Actually, sleep _always_ seemed to escape me, regardless of what was going to happen the next day. I just made a habit of letting everything explode the second my head hit the pillow.

Part of the reason is because I am finally alone, and there's nothing else to distract me. It's me, my pillow, and my thoughts. When there's nothing to fill that silencing gap, your thoughts run rapid.

From there you're really just trapped by your own mind.

At least there are no nightmares. Then again there aren't really _any dreams _either. None that I remember anyway.

The light flows freely, lighting up my bland room. I'm not even tired, really.

_The anger boiling in my body was always enough to keep my energy up. It was my own caffeine, morphine, or adrenaline rush. Either way, it had me addicted._

I'd always found silence particularly unnerving. Something about it was unnatural, inhuman even. My parents were probably awake, and somewhere in the house, but they moved like mice. I had no hope of hearing any sounds unless they meant for me to hear.

I suppose it's nice, or it would be to anyone else. They are _considerate _and wouldn't want to wake me. I get it, but I'm no about that life. Silence can drag on, and it's been known to drive people in sane if it went for too long.

A sigh escapes my mouth, releasing a sound into the silence. If I wanted to break the silence, all I have to do is find someone to talk to, right? I've got parents, relatives, and friends for that.

That's why they're there, isn't it? To the fill the void of silence.

I get up from the bed abruptly, feeling my heartbeat increase as the thoughts go on. My fingers find my head, my hair specifically, and I yank against it.

_It's really a coping mechanism of some sort. To distract yourself from one pain, you simply give yourself another. _

Looking in the few drawers, I attempt to find some of my nicer clothes. Clothes that have been permanently dubbed as Reaping outfits. My fingers find my only pair of blue jeans that aren't cluttered with holes, a nice blue shirt that makes me think of the sky, and my only pair of shoes. (They were black trainers, covered in dirt and must've been years old.)

On my way to the kitchen, I attempt to feel bright, and push a smile on my face. But today it just isn't working,

_It's sort of like that cheap glue you bought years ago, and it's all old. It barely works. But it's the only glue you have, so you try to use it anyway. Then the anger comes when the paper just _doesn't_ stick._

My parents are in the living room (if it was big enough to be called that). My dad reading some book or article halfway across the room. My mom is sitting in her regular spot by the window. As usual, her gaze sadly at the sky, as the clouds form and dissolve.

"Oh, Hadley, barely noticed you there. There's berries on the table," my dad said, chuckling slightly. A _fake _chuckle, of course.

I attempt to smile back, but when I realize it's a lost cause, I go to the kitchen table.

The berries are elegantly placed in a basket, the colors blending. I immediately imagine my dad wasting minutes, placing everything just like that. Anything to stall him from having to look at the same scene in the living room.

Not wanting my dad's effort to go to waste, I pluck a few berries into my mouth. Even though I don't really feel hungry.

I go back out to the living room, debating my next actions. But my dad solves it for me.

"So, I was think we'd walk to the Reaping together this year. As a family," he stated. I nodded slightly in his direction, but he isn't who my real attention was on.

It was on the _other _person occupying this room.

"Mom..?" I murmured, probably just loud enough for her to hear.

_Say something, Mother. _Anything. _I need you to talk to me, and look at me. Like I'm really hear, like I mean something to you. Like I'm not a reflection of _her.

"That would be nice," she finally says, but her voice sounds stiff. She knows that it's different this year.

It's a year where we can't help but think about _her. _Not only do the Capital control what we do, but now they control what we think about.

Before we know it we'll be mindless drones.

* * *

I don't have any of my friends to stand by this year. All I have is nameless people I recognize from school. But we all have more in common than I will ever have with any of my friends.

Effie plays a video for us, making sure we know she brought it _all the way from the Capital. _

If it's from the Capital, I really don't want anything to do with it.

There's lots of death, and corpses. This is how President Snow shows his power. Basically, the message is if you ever defy the Capital, your screwed. They can have you killed immediately.

All of those people died, and the one who _really _deserved to didn't. Instead he's part of the prize of this years games.

"Iris Maine," Effie called up.

I knew her, I saw her walking around school sometimes. Most of the time, she's a wreck. I don't see her going very far in these games.

Then again, most tributes this year are bound to be a wreck too.

Effie moves steadily to the other bowl. The one that has quite a few slips with my name on it. I straighten up, just as every other male in the roped area does.

"Hadley Amis."

I clench my fists in anger, feeling my eyes go ablaze. Looks like I'll be participating in this _comeback game _of President Snow's.

… But if I win I get the chance to kill _that man. _The one that ruined my family from the start.

_I will kill Haymich Abernathy for my mom, and my aunt._

* * *

**There's District 12!**

**I really need tributes, guys, otherwise this story could turn into a standstill. SO, if any of you would like you can submit a second tribute.**

**Who was your favorite? Why?****What district should I do next?**


End file.
